


i'm on my knees, the water creeps to my chest

by snsk



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Destiny, Happy Ending, M/M, the dragon makes an appearance, what should happen at the end of merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 22:26:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the battlefield: swords are clanging, blood is splattering the grass like a red, rusty kind of rain, and Merlin is far, far away from Arthur: Mordred’s sorcerers had made sure of that, keeping Merlin locked in combat, unable to-</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm on my knees, the water creeps to my chest

The dragon tells him it’s Arthur’s destiny, has been foretold in the stars since the beginning of time, whispered amongst witches since before speech was invented.  
  
“What,” Merlin says, and “No.”  
  
The dragon raises an eyebrow at him, or the dragon equivalent of a raised eyebrow: a quirk of scales, if you will. He repeats: “It is destiny.”  
  
“I’ve not kept him alive all these years,” Merlin snaps, “just so he can up and die at the hands of a delusional idiot.”  
  
“You will not be able to stop it,” the dragon warns, and Merlin replies, “Watch me.”  
  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
This is the battlefield: swords are clanging, blood is splattering the grass like a red, rusty kind of rain, and Merlin is far, far away from Arthur: Mordred’s sorcerers had made sure of that, keeping Merlin locked in combat, unable to-  
  
Slick slice of a blade, piercing his side, but he knows it’s not his blood that’s pouring, sweet and strong onto the grass. it might as well be, though, and-  
  
 _(he will die at Mordred’s hand, and his alone, and you will be powerless to save him)_  
  
-and okay, you  know what, that’s quite enough.  
  
The magic warms him up from the essence of who he is, deep inside the darkest recesses of his soul, ready and eager and waiting to explode. he feels his eyes flare a steady, burning gold, and he raises a hand, a merest flick of the fingers, and the nearest enemy is thrown backwards, a muffled thump of dull defeat.  
  
It takes him less than no time to get through the rest, flinging them carelessly through the air like clothes, tossed aside after Arthur returns from a particularly long hunting trip. And then he is at Arthur’s side, and Arthur is bleeding, on his back, and Mordred grins at him, every bit the mischievious child he never was.  
  
The anger pounding hot and heavy and murderous in Merlin’s veins makes his magic restless, makes it swirl inside him, a thousand crashing waves, and Merlin gives it release.  
  
Some of it flows towards Arthur, steady, strong: closing the wound, soothing the systems. Arthur’s breathing evens, and his eyes close in the sleep of the healing.  
  
The rest of it slithers towards Mordred-  
  
who has half a second to look surprised.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
“It was supposed to be destiny,” the dragon remarks, in a sort of awe, and it’s quite nice, really, to see the dragon almost rendered speechless.  
  
“We’re more than destiny, me and Arthur,” Merlin explains- or tries to anyway, because it’s unexplainable, inexplicable: how he and Arthur are as endless as time, as ever-burning as the sun; how destiny has never defined them, how they are destiny itself.  
  
The dragon bows his head, almost a mark of respect. They sit in silence for a moment.  
  
“It’s ‘Arthur and I,’ ” the dragon corrects, and Merlin smiles.  
  
“Indeed it is,” he agrees.


End file.
